


phantasia

by carzla



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DCU, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice Spoilers, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Post-Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Rimming, Slight D/s Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 11:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6515974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carzla/pseuds/carzla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under the moonlight, everything looked soft, delicate, like a wisp of a dream. In the tranquillity of the night, they came together as one. To seek solace, to seek forgiveness. In the strength of their embrace, it was as if reality would leave them untouched and unscarred.</p>
            </blockquote>





	phantasia

**Author's Note:**

> Post-BvS fic time! Thank you to Lyrial for beta-ing key moments of the fic! It really helped to get it to where I was going with. ^^ This is also not related to my other 2 fics set in BvS-verse, fyi.
> 
> For purposes of the impact of this fic as I envisioned it, I've elected to leave out some tags so as not to spoil it. For the adventurous, go forth now my fellow fan~! For the more cautious, you can click the "See the end of the work for more notes." link to see the spoilery tags. :)

It was still and quiet around the lakehouse. It was well into the night, and for Gotham, a rare one with cloudless midnight skies and a full silver moon. The only sounds to be heard for miles around came from the bedroom. Even then, they were soft, subdued.

Moonlight shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows, their passage unobstructed by any curtains, softly illuminating the darkened interior. On the plush bed, two figures were entwined together, lost to the outside world. Their sole focus was on nothing but each other.

Clark was laid out on the dark, rumpled sheets, moonlight making his skin almost luminous, the barest hint of a flush high on his cheekbones visible. He was an ethereal vision, and now more than ever, did he look like he was not of Earth but was instead, a being descended from the stars. The contrast of Clark’s skin against the dark sheets of the bed left Bruce’s mouth dry, even as he drank in the artistic beauty inherent in the picture that Clark made.

He traced the pads of his fingers gently over Clark’s face, following a now-invisible line that had once been made by a green tipped spear. Clark’s eyes blinked open, capturing his gaze in their endless, blue depths, unobscured now by the thick glasses he wore as a disguise.

There were no lies between them now. No masks.

Clark turned his head to follow Bruce’s fingers, catching them gently in a chaste kiss. That gentle caress spoke of a world of forgiveness, and he craved more of it.

He drew his fingers down to Clark’s chin and tilted Clark’s face towards him. Their lips met in a soft, barely-there caress. Once. Twice. Bruce pushed just that little bit harder, and Clark met him halfway. Then Clark’s lips parted slightly as he seemed to melt back down into the bed, inviting Bruce to deepen the kiss and to follow him down into a pool of pleasure.

He took the invitation, pressing Clark down into the soft sheets, well aware that it was only possible because Clark allowed it. It was almost unbelievable, how trusting Clark still was of humanity. But most significantly, how trusting he still was of _Bruce_ , even after everything. He was going to cherish the trust that Clark bestowed upon him; he would see that he never broke it.

One of his hands threaded through the soft strands of Clark’s hair, gently caressing, gently holding Clark in place for Bruce to ravish and plunder that beautiful mouth. His other hand trailed down Clark’s throat towards the center of his sternum, before deviating to the right to brush teasingly across a nipple.

Clark made a soft noise of surprised pleasure against his lips, and even half-muffled, it was… intriguing. Bruce was a detective, and this was worth investigating.

He brought his fingers round again, this time, applying more deliberate pressure as the pads of his fingers moved over the nub of sensitive flesh. Clark reacted beautifully, whimpers escaping his lips with each purposeful stroke Bruce applied over his nipple. He drew back from their kiss momentarily, partly to allow himself to breathe, and partly to watch Clark’s eyes which were hazy and unfocused with pleasure. He gently untangled his other hand from Clark’s hair, dropping it down to hover above Clark’s other pectoral. He waited for Clark’s gaze, still clouded with lust and bliss, to lock with his. A tiny quirk of his lips was Clark’s only warning, before Bruce pinched both of Clark’s nipples simultaneously.

The shocked, hedonistic moan that tore itself out from Clark’s throat spurred on Bruce’s primal, base instincts, as did the way Clark arched up into Bruce’s touch, seemingly unable to control himself. For a second, Bruce thought that Clark had floated the both of them off the bed.

He did it again.

Clark whimpered and his body writhed under Bruce, as if undecided if it wanted more or wanted to escape the sensation. The action brushed their erections against each other, and Bruce let out an answering hiss as lightning seemed to spark through his body at the contact. Clark reached out for him, and Bruce let himself be tugged back down into a hot, open-mouthed kiss, even as he pushed Clark’s hands down so they were crossed above his head against the pillows and Bruce could use one hand to keep them in place.

They were pressed tightly together down the lengths of their bodies, and Bruce could clearly feel Clark’s erection, a hot, wet brand along the inside of his thigh. He could feel Clark trembling faintly, trying to maintain control. He rolled his hips down against Clark, using the action to part Clark’s legs further, so he could fit himself more comfortably, but mainly so he could expose more of Clark for him to touch.

As if reading his mind, Clark spread himself open without further prompting. To reward him, Bruce deepened their kiss, pressing harder down on the hand he had kept on Clark’s crossed wrists as his free hand twisted a neglected nipple. He swallowed down Clark’s wanton moan, and felt a hot blurt of pre-cum from Clark’s cock where it was pressed against his stomach.

With some reluctance, he pulled back because air was, unfortunately, a necessity and also so that he could study Clark. Clark’s hair was mussed, his expression dazed. His lips were kiss-swollen and parted, unintentionally seductive, as if begging to be plundered again and again and again. Clark’s hands remained where they were against the pillows, despite Bruce no longer holding them in place. The position exposed Clark’s chest further, and Bruce’s gaze was drawn to the hard nubs of flesh he had mercilessly teased just moments ago. Under the starlight, it was as if Bruce had a god beneath him, willingly submitting to his mortal, lustful whims.

It was a heady feeling.

He dropped his gaze lower, admiring the chiselled body, the stretch of Clark’s parted legs, and the hard length of Clark’s cock, glistening wetly in the pale light. As he looked his fill, he noticed how Clark’s cock twitched a little and another spurt of pre-come was released. His gaze snapped back up to Clark, who was looking embarrassed, flushed high to his cheeks. Clark’s eyes were beseeching, and most likely, he wanted Bruce to stop his intent scrutiny. But Bruce wasn’t going to stop. Clark had nothing to be ashamed of; he was beautiful all over, inside and out.

He shook his head slightly, lips curving into an unrepentant smirk, then he was dragging his palms down Clark’s thighs before smoothly pushing them up and even further apart to admire Clark’s toned ass. He heard Clark’s breath hitch before Clark breathed out a long shaky breath. Bruce could just make out Clark’s entrance, and it was a tantalizing sight. His hands slid down to grasp at the firm cheeks, and he couldn’t resist giving it a teasing squeeze. Clark squirmed but kept his legs spread, and Bruce pressed a quick kiss to the side of Clark’s knee as a reward. Then he spread Clark’s cheeks further open, fully exposing the partially hidden entrance to his eyes.

A shudder ran through Clark at Bruce’s action, but he made no move to resist it. It once again hit Bruce just how much Clark was trusting him by allowing Bruce to put him in such a vulnerable position – invulnerable skin or not. It made Bruce want to give him the world. Maybe it wouldn’t be possible, even with the wealth of money he had at his disposal, but he could start by taking Clark to the heights of pleasure.

He ran a thumb teasingly down soft, delicate flesh, barely skimming over Clark’s tightly furled hole. He watched the way Clark’s hole twitched in response, and repeated the motion, this time, with firmer pressure. Another full-bodied shudder ran through Clark, and Bruce couldn’t resist letting the tip of his thumb catch on the rim and tugging just a little. A faint whine worked its way out of Clark’s throat and Bruce was torn between watching Clark biting his lip to keep his voice down even though there really wasn’t a need to, and watching how Clark’s hole tried to clench around his thumb as if wanting to suck him in.

Without really thinking too hard about it, Bruce shifted himself so that his face was level with Clark’s ass. Then before Clark could get an inkling of what he was planning to do, he leaned down and laved a long stripe up Clark’s ass, ending right on top of that tempting little hole. Clark’s entire body convulsed in shocked pleasure, and the cry that tore out of his mouth spurred Bruce on. He dove into the act of worshiping Clark’s asshole using his mouth and tongue with the single-minded focus and intensity he usually reserved for his missions.

“Bruce!”

Clark’s hips bucked against his hold, but it wasn’t hard enough to throw him off. Bruce exerted pressure to hold Clark down, but didn’t stop his ministrations. He used his tongue to coax Clark’s muscles into loosening up, into letting him in. It also had the added benefit of making Clark finally lose control of his voice, letting out a series of gasps and moans that utterly enthralled Bruce. He wanted to hear more of them, to see what other sounds he could elicit from Clark. He groped blindly to the side of the bed and was rewarded when his fingers closed around the tube of lube. He flipped the cap open and coated a finger, then worked it inexorably into Clark’s hole even as he continued to pleasure Clark with his tongue.

“Aah! Bruce…! Can’t…! Nnnn!”

He pulled his mouth away, but substituted with adding another finger into Clark’s steadily loosening hole, scissoring his fingers to open Clark up further. Then he aimed for Clark’s prostate with a sharp thrust of his fingers. He knew he had struck true when Clark spasmed around his fingers and the other man all but screamed at the sensation. He thrust his fingers sharply against Clark’s pleasure spot again, and this time, Clark’s reaction was beautiful.

Clark’s dripping wet cock jerked and then he was coming. The pearl white jets of cum painted streaks on Clark’s chest in what looked like never-ending waves, some of them shooting so far up that they landed on Clark’s cheek. Clark was letting out the most wonderfully hedonistic moans, his hips thrusting back down on Bruce’s fingers repeatedly, seeking more sensation wantonly, and Bruce gladly met the motion in counterpoint, not stopping even when Clark began to squirm away instead, his cock no longer spurting cum. He was relentless in stimulating Clark, and still Clark did not lift his hands from where they were still placed above his head to stop him even when Clark easily could.

“Bruce, stop… Please!” Clark sobbed out, voice wrecked from overstimulation. “Too much!”

Bruce finally relented and eased his fingers away from Clark’s prostate, but he kept them moving still, alternating between gliding in and out of Clark’s slackened opening and just circling his widened rim. He leaned down to capture Clark’s parted lips in a fierce kiss, channeling his appreciation for Clark as well as the unsated lust he still had, into it. He slid his tongue into the unresisting mouth, plundering their depths hungrily. He could feel the slippery slide of cum between their bodies, as well as the hard jut of Clark’s still-erect cock. The wonders of Kryptonian physiology.

He finally pulled away from Clark’s lips to mouth up along Clark’s jawline until he could whisper into Clark’s ear in a surprisingly uncertain voice, “May I?”

Clark planted a tender kiss to his cheek in reassurance, before replying, “Yes.”

Bruce returned the gesture and as he sat back up, Clark smiled at him, a sweet little thing that was at odds with the debauchery Bruce had in store for him in the near future. He couldn’t help but return the smile with an honest one of his own. Then he ducked his head away from Clark’s face, in part to look for the lube, but mostly because it was starting to be overwhelming for him. Emotions, genuine ones that didn’t fall in the vicinity of rage, were not really his forte. But this was not the time to be thinking about that. He had an objective: he was going to make Clark see stars.

He coated his fingers with more lube, making sure to stretch Clark thoroughly with three fingers. He didn’t want to hurt Clark, and invulnerable or not, nociceptive pain still applied to Kryptonian biology. Despite Clark eagerly shoving himself onto Bruce’s fingers, and his vocalizations that he was _ready, damn it, Bruce_ , Bruce didn’t hurry himself up until he really felt Clark was well and properly stretched. Even though it had been so very tempting to bury himself into that slick, wet heat, this was about Clark’s pleasure and not his own.

Finally, finally, he drew his fingers out of Clark, and shuddered himself as Clark let out a desperate cry of pure need and his hole clenched reflexively around air, as if trying to keep Bruce’s fingers in. He hurriedly slicked himself up, and then lined his cock up with Clark’s hole. Clark gave him a tiny quirk of his lips, a trusting smile and then Bruce was sliding in, Clark opening up easily for his cock and taking him in all the way to the hilt. He couldn’t help but let out a low groan and it was echoed by Clark’s gasp as the other man arched up beneath him.

Clark was slick and hot, _so hot_ , all around him, and it would be so, _so_ easy to lose himself in visceral, base lust, to chase his own completion in the exquisite heat he had sheathed himself in. With a force of will that he normally applied to his missions as Batman, Bruce reined in that impulse. He gave Clark a moment to adjust, clamping his hands tightly on Clark’s hips to center himself.

“Bruce…”

That was the cue he needed, and he set a measured pace that was a comfortable midpoint between slow and languid and hard and fast. Clark wrapped his legs around Bruce’s waist, using the leverage to meet each of Bruce’s thrusts at the same tempo effortlessly. It was as if they were dancing, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony, as if they were always meant to be. Even though in reality, they hadn’t known each other for all that long…

Bruce leaned down to capture Clark’s lips again, and they kissed almost lazily, enjoying each other’s presence. He let one of his hands wander up from Clark’s hips, trailing along his sides before sliding in to lovingly fondle one of Clark’s nipples. He swallowed the moan his actions elicited, enjoying the way Clark writhed in pleasure beneath him. Another pinch to the already abused nipple made Clark break their kiss, but in turn, Clark let out a keening whine and he bucked up harder against Bruce, his body clenching harder around Bruce as if wanting even more of him. There was a low growl, and Bruce only realized a little belatedly that it had come from himself. In the next split second, the more languorous pace that he had set turned quick and dirty.

He surged up against Clark, bending Clark almost double and pinning Clark’s hands in place again – not that they had moved at all from the position that Bruce had left them in since the very beginning. Clark just took it with a long throaty groan that broke up into stuttering gasps of Bruce’s name when the new angle made Bruce nail his prostate on every, single forceful thrust. The slap of skin on skin sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet of the night, and Bruce had a fleeting thought that he would be struck down for daring to debauch and dominate a god.

He kept up his quickened pace, letting his eyes rove over the arousing picture Clark now made: mouth slackened by pleasure and letting out the most wanton litany of sounds Bruce had ever had the good fortune of hearing, blue eyes glazed as if Clark entirely were subsumed by carnal desires, abused nipples flushed delicately with color that contrasted nicely with the streaks of white cum from when Clark had orgasmed earlier, his perfectly-sculpted body trembling with need and working itself mindlessly, greedily back on to Bruce’s cock, and of course, Clark’s own cock, once again dripping wet with clear pre-cum and looking ready to release without any direct stimulation to flesh.

“Bruce… Nnngh! I… close…!”

Something in Clark’s tone seemed to suggest that he didn’t want it to be over quite so soon. Bruce could understand just why. This was one of the best things that had happened to him in a long, long while, and he didn’t just mean the physical euphoria that sex could incite. Sharing this intimacy with Clark was a joy and wonder in itself. He wanted to prolong this pleasure, and more importantly, this sense of connection he now shared with Clark for as long as he could.

He lengthened his strokes, keeping the same force behind them even as the pace slowed down a few notches. Each time he pulled back, it felt as if Clark’s passage was clinging to him, reluctant to let go. Each time he pushed in, it felt as if Clark was inviting him to stay and fill him up. Although he had dialled back the speed, Clark still looked as if he were on the edge, copious amounts of pre-cum smearing faintly shimmering, translucent patterns on his skin with each of Bruce’s thrusts. The slightest touch could send Clark tumbling over the edge of orgasm, and despite his own desire to prolong this, Bruce wanted more than ever to take Clark into the freefall of carnal bliss.

“Let go,” he purred.

Clark shivered at the sound of his voice, even as he gave a minute shake of his head. “Not… ah…! I… nngh… Together…?”

Bruce couldn’t help but smile a little. Clark was still unbearably sweet even as consumed by pleasure and passion as he was. Then he was letting out a shocked gasp himself as Clark appeared to consciously tighten his muscles rhythmically around Bruce’s cock in a bid to get what he wanted.

Perhaps, if that was all that Clark did, Bruce would’ve been able to hold out against the pleasurable assault of smooth muscle rippling around his cock. What tipped him over the edge in the next moment, however, was how Clark deftly but gently wormed a hand out of Bruce’s grip so that he could interlace their fingers. Bruce wouldn’t be able to explain it, but it was that simple but intimate action, out of everything Clark was doing, that sparked through his nerves and sent him hurtling over the edge into orgasm.

“Clark!” he heard himself gasp out, before his climax swept through his body relentlessly, like an unstoppable force of nature.

His hips worked on instinct, greedily rutting into Clark’s willing hole to chase and draw out his own satisfaction as much as was physically possible. Until finally, the last waves of his climax abated and he managed to wade out of the trance-like state he had ended up in to realize that Clark had climaxed as well, getting more cum on his own body as well as some on Bruce’s torso. Their fingers were still entwined together and that sight warmed him in ways he’d thought wasn’t possible anymore.

Carefully, he lowered Clark’s legs back down to a more comfortable position and started to pull out. Clark actually whimpered when his ass was empty of cock, his hole fluttering helplessly around air as a dollop of Bruce’s cum started to slip past the open rim. If Bruce were a decade or so younger, that sight alone would probably be enough to get him raring to go for another round. As it was, he was seriously considering some of the less vanilla things he could do to Clark’s ass, especially when it was filled with his semen like it currently was.

It was also around this time when he noticed that Clark, despite having already climaxed twice, was _still hard_.

Bruce could feel his eyebrow rising as he glanced back up at Clark’s face, which was already flushed but seemed to be coloring even further. Even the tips of Clark’s ears looked to be turning faintly red.

“Really?” he teased. “How many times do you need to come to be satiated?”

“I don’t usually need to this much…” Clark mumbled, not quite meeting Bruce’s eyes. “You don’t have to-”

Bruce cut Clark off with a kiss, even as his mind began to think of the different ways he could satisfy Clark. He didn’t even bother to consider not dealing with it, as Clark was obviously about to suggest.

A thought came to him, and it both terrified and aroused him in equal measure. He could let Clark take him, but the amount of trust it entailed and the vulnerability… He hadn’t dealt well with being vulnerable in any way since he was a child. But… but he wanted to try, he truly did, and wasn’t that a surprise as well? If anything, choosing Clark to share this piece of himself with was probably the best choice he could make.

In the end, Bruce wanted to slake Clark’s arousal… and wanted to show Clark that he trusted him.

Still keeping their lips locked together, he neatly rolled them around so that Clark was on top of him. Clark noticed the change in their positions immediately, and pulled back, tilting his head to one side curiously.

“Bruce?”

Bruce found that words were kind of failing him at this moment, but he could show Clark. He spread his thighs open, bringing his bent knees up high to expose himself to Clark’s gaze. There was no mistaking what he was offering, and he knew Clark understood when he saw Clark’s pupils dilate as his eyes raked down Bruce’s body. It was almost like a physical touch.

“Are… are you sure?”

He nodded, making sure to meet Clark’s eyes. His voice was unusually hoarse when he spoke.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Clark gave him a brilliant smile, and the emotions in his cerulean eyes were almost overwhelming in intensity for Bruce. He wasn’t sure if he deserved to be looked at with such care and…

He was saved from completing his thought as Clark leaned down to kiss him, and in the same movement, nudged a slick finger gently against his rim. How Clark had even gotten the lube in that span of time was a mystery- _Oh._ The perks of sleeping with someone with super-speed. This was a most valuable discovery.

Clark kept up a gentle pressure as he circled his finger around his hole, waiting patiently for him to relax more. It had been a very long time since Bruce had bottomed. So while a part of him wanted to growl at Clark that he _wasn’t made of glass, thank you very much_ , a larger part of him appreciated the tenderness in Clark’s actions, and whatever logical part of his mind that still remained functioning chimed in that he had never been taken by someone who could accidentally leave him with severe injuries just by losing the tiniest bit of control.

In short, slow and careful was good.

It took some time before he finally relaxed under Clark’s gentle, patient attentions. The tension in his body, which he normally hardly ever noticed as it was so entrenched in his daily life that he had taken it as the norm, slowly unwound from his muscles. As the tension evaporated from his flesh, he felt the tip of Clark’s finger slip into him and he welcomed it.

Clark took his time with preparing Bruce, and this unhurried pace felt surprisingly good on his side of the picture. It was a slow, sensual burn that rolled through him instead of a wildfire that burnt out hot and quick that his usual sexual encounters were. It was very much enjoyable even though Bruce knew he was unlikely to get hard again in such a short span of time. Not after that mind-blowing orgasm he’d just had.

He soon noticed a little furrow between Clark’s brows, and knew immediately what Clark was getting bothered about. He brought up Clark’s hand – the hand still entwined with his – so he could place a gentle kiss on it to catch Clark’s attention.

“I’m good. I’m just not likely to get hard again any time soon.”

“But-”

“It’s alright. I’m at least ten years older than you, _and_ I don’t have super-powered stamina,” he reassured. “I’ll still enjoy this. I _am_ enjoying this.”

Clark still looked hesitant.

“Trust me, please. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to… You… you understand that, don’t you?”

Clark’s worry seemed to melt away as his eyes went soft, filled with tender emotions that made Bruce almost want to look away. But he wouldn’t, less Clark get the wrong idea again. He wanted to do this for Clark.

“I do,” Clark whispered. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Bruce leaned up to kiss Clark in lieu of a reply, not knowing what to say anyway. After that, Clark was less hesitant, but he was still being extremely thorough with stretching Bruce out. He also seemed to really relish exploring Bruce’s scar-lined body with his mouth. Clark kissed down his neck, following the line of one of many scars down his pectorals to lavish attention on his nipples. He wasn’t quite that sensitive there, especially compared to how Clark had reacted to nipple play, but it was still pleasurable. It wasn’t long before Clark was moving further down, seemingly striving to lick every single square inch of Bruce’s torso.

It was different. Good different.

Bruce didn’t usually have a partner spend so much time giving him such gentle attention. When playing the part of the frivolous playboy, he had to be careful to not let his partners notice exactly how many scars he bore on his body. He certainly hadn’t really allowed them the chance to run their hands – much less their lips – all over his skin like what Clark was doing to him now. Even on the rare occasions when he’d been with a male partner _and_ bottomed, he was still the one in control of the situation. It had been very important that nobody connected playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne with terrifying vigilante Batman.

He had never been with someone who knew that he was Batman, and the difference was startling… almost _frightening_. He had never been as open with anyone as he was with Clark at this very moment.

Most surprisingly of all was that despite knowing who he was, knowing what he’d tried to do when he’d been wilfully blind regarding Superman, regarding _Clark_ , Clark was still treating him like someone infinitely precious. There was having to handle the breakable human carefully because of superhuman strength, and then there was… Clark. If there was anyone else that he could entrust his secret identity to, it was Clark Kent.

The low simmer of heat from Clark’s tender ministrations spiked abruptly when Clark’s probing fingers brushed against his prostate. His hips bucked up involuntarily, and a startled gasp escaped his mouth. Clark’s lips quirked up in a pleased smile, and then three of his fingers worked their way into Bruce’s ass, alternating between loosening him up and rubbing directly against his prostate. Clark kept up a surprisingly unpredictable rhythm and Bruce found himself trembling with desire for Clark to be closer to him, to be inside of him.

“Clark,” he said, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. He barely recognized himself. “I’m good. Take me. I want you now.”

Then Clark was doing as he was told. His fingers pulled out of Bruce’s ass, and before Bruce could even lament the loss, a hot, thick shape was bearing down against his hole. It took but a moment for Clark to breach him, and then his cock was sliding in, in, _in_ until Clark’s pelvis was flush against Bruce’s ass and they couldn’t possibly be any closer.

“Bruce…” Clark breathed out.

He was bent over Bruce, face flushed and his hands were placed on either side of Bruce’s head, gripping the pillows so tightly they were probably going to have finger-shaped holes in them. Clark seemed to be clinging tightly to the shreds of his self-control to give Bruce time to adjust to his girth. For his own part, Bruce was panting for breath, and god, he felt so, _so_ full.

It felt so _good_. He wanted more.

As if he had heard Bruce’s thoughts, Clark moved, drawing his hips back slightly and then pushing back in. He started out with short, shallow thrusts, as if testing whether Bruce was truly okay. In response, Bruce wrapped his legs around Clark’s waist, and like what Clark had done earlier, he met Clark’s rhythm. Unlike Clark, he tried to up the pace; he wanted it faster, harder.

Clark had other ideas. He took the hint that Bruce could take more, but all that meant was that he drew his cock almost fully out of Bruce, leaving just the head of his cock shallowly inside Bruce’s hole and paused there for the longest split second of Bruce’s life, before forcefully snapping his hips back in. And Clark just kept going on in that manner no matter what Bruce tried to do until he could do nothing but just take what Clark was offering.

Each powerful and deep thrust punched the air out of Bruce’s lungs. His ears were ringing with the rhythmic sounds of skin meeting skin, and it was interspersed with the gasps and moans that Clark seemed to push out of Bruce without any conscious participation on Bruce’s part.

“Bruce…” Clark rasped out, his blue eyes locking on Bruce’s brown ones. “You’re _so fucking tight_.”

Clark’s unexpected use of profanity sent a bolt of shocked lust racing through his body, pooling low in his gut. It felt like an accomplishment to make Clark actually curse.

“I can… feel you… Feel your cum slipping out of me…”

“Clark” and “dirty talk” almost didn’t compute in Bruce’s brain.

“Wish… wish I could keep it all inside me… when I’m inside you… It’s like… you’re _everywhere_ , Bruce…”

Only Clark could make dirty talk _sappy_. But Bruce found that he didn’t mind it. Not a single bit. It was as endearing as it was arousing.

“You’re getting hard again,” Clark said next, his eyes looking down Bruce’s body and Bruce could _hear_ the smug satisfaction.

Clark looked back up at him, and the smile on his face was a dorky, pleased one because apparently Clark Kent was a huge sap. Involuntarily, Bruce felt his own lips turn upwards in a soft smile as well. He was really getting soft in his old age.

Then, Clark moved his hands from where they had been clutching at the pillows. He cautiously held on to Bruce’s hip with one hand, and with the other, he trailed his fingers lightly over Bruce’s half-hard cock. Bruce shivered, but found that his instinctive arching of his back to try and take in more of Clark was halted by Clark’s careful grip on his hip. He was effectively immobilized with that simple touch, and before this night, it would’ve caused him panic. But now, all it did was send white-hot arousal spiking through him, filling his cock even further.

“Clark…!” he moaned. “Faster…”

“No, Bruce… I… I want it like this. Okay?”

Clark was still keeping his hips moving at the same slow but forceful pace that was gradually driving Bruce out of his mind. He could feel his orgasm approaching in slow but steady waves, and god, how he wanted it right this minute. He couldn’t seem to muster any patience in this situation, but he was unable to forcibly enact a change of pace. All he could do was moan and writhe on the cock impaling him.

“You’re… you’re killing… me here…” he groaned out.

“Please?”

So damn polite. How was it possible for Clark to sound like innocence personified when he was buried balls deep in Bruce’s ass?

“ _Fuck._ Fine… Do as you w- _Ah!_ ”

He swore he saw stars when Clark adjusted his angle and then each of his measured thrusts were hitting Bruce’s prostate dead on with each and every stroke. It was a constant hit and drag, and hit and drag, and if he thought he was going mad before, he was now taken to the very limits of his sanity. He clutched at Clark’s broad shoulders, fingers digging into flesh so fiercely that they would probably have drawn blood if not for Clark’s Kryptonian physiology. Bruce’s orgasm was building faster with this new angle. He was hovering on the precipice and Clark was keeping him there, pushing him closer and closer but not letting him fall over the last bit.

It felt like eons had passed as he was kept on the brink of climax, his mind wiped of any other thought than the desperate need to come. Clark’s thrusts were finally starting to lose their measured pace, becoming frantic but no less powerful and deep. Then Clark was covering Bruce’s open mouth with his own, Clark’s tongue immediately diving into claim Bruce’s mouth. There was the barest hint of skin grazing the head of his cock, and he was gone.

His orgasm rolled through him in waves, as if each thrust from Clark started another climax and another, and another. Everything was fuzzy and he was trembling, overwhelmed by the constant stream of pleasure broken with bursts of white-hot sensation as Clark’s cock found his prostate unerringly. He cried out as Clark seemed to almost enter super-speed, and Clark’s cock felt like it was drilling against Bruce’s prostate and he was oversensitive but even the hurt felt _amazing_.

Then Clark was coming with a groan, liquid heat spurting inside of Bruce’s ass, filling him up even more. Bruce lost track of time, lost in the feeling of Clark climaxing inside of him which augmented the last waves of his own orgasm. When he finally regained a semblance of his wits, Clark had already flopped down on top of Bruce, his third orgasm finally having slaked his lust if the now-soft cock still inside of Bruce was any indication.

Bruce allowed himself to bask in the afterglow for a few more moments before it was starting to feel slightly uncomfortable, what with having six feet of hard muscle lying pretty much fully on top of him. Not that it didn’t feel good too, but Clark felt almost like deadweight and it was getting slightly difficult to breathe.

“Clark,” he prompted. “Clark, you’re actually kind of heavy.”

Clark didn’t even so much as twitch. Had his final orgasm actually tired him out enough that he just fell straight asleep? It was as much of an ego booster for Bruce as it was adorably amusing.

Nevertheless, Bruce really, really needed Clark to move. Even though it still felt good now, he knew that if he didn’t get to cleaning them both up, it would be unpleasant the next morning. Seeing as Clark was unlikely to be helping, Bruce pushed at Clark’s body. With some effort, Clark finally flopped over onto his back, but more importantly off Bruce.

Bruce sat up, but he couldn’t resist leaning over Clark to-

Clark was on the dirt, a jagged rip bisecting the emblem representing Superman that laid over his chest. He was pale, a sickly kind of paleness, unlike how he had looked under the moonlight on Bruce’s bed. Moonlight. The skies were overcast, the moonlight barely filtering through the thick, dark clouds, and everything looked washed-out. Clark looked faded, as if he were something forgotten by the ages and not an ethereal, untouchable being. Stark against the bleak montage, however, were crimson stains. Clark… could bleed, was bleeding… was…

Dead.

Dead on the ruins of what was once Gotham’s docks.

Dead by the hands of the monstrous thing that Luthor had created.

Dead because of the green crystal spear that Batman, that _Bruce_ had fashioned to kill Superman, to kill _Clark_ with.

Bruce knelt frozen where he was, half bent over Clark’s still body. Then there were footsteps coming towards them. Someone was running over, and he could hear a woman crying. Then feminine hands were encircling Clark’s shoulders, gently lifting his head onto a woman’s lap, pulling Clark away from him. Bruce looked up and into the tear-streaked face of Lois Lane.

Lois Lane. The woman that Clark actually loved.

He started to move, to reach out a hand towards Clark. There had to be _something_ he could do. But Lane curled herself further over Clark, as if trying to protect him from Bruce. That was when he noticed the blood.

Blood on Batman’s black gloves.

“Get lost.”

Bruce almost missed the soft but resolute words from Lane, half caught up in horrified fascination as he looked at his gloves.

“Get away from him,” she continued, her voice rising in volume and colored with distraught anger.

He knew he should do as she said. He was coated in dust and grime from the battle. His hands were blood-stained… and he knew just who had caused all of this. He shouldn’t be the person by Clark’s side. But he couldn’t move. He didn’t want to leave.

“You did this to him!” Lane screamed at him, and she was looking directly at him now, bitter hatred in her eyes. “You did this!”

All the blood on his hands.

Clark’s blood on his hands.

“ _Go!_ ”

So.

Much.

Blood.

* * *

Bruce Wayne startled awake. He was in the bedroom of his lakehouse, lying alone on the bed that suddenly felt at once too big and also too suffocating. He stared up at the blank ceiling, trying to calm his racing heart and resolutely ignoring the slightly sticky feel to the sheet wrapped around his lower body. Then he sat up, and looked out of the windows that faced the lake. It was a cloudy night, he noted distractedly, nothing like…

Vivid dreams were his curse, and since Clark Kent’s death, Bruce had resigned himself to having one more person feature in his nightly nightmares alongside the people he had failed: his parents and Jason. Tonight hadn’t been the first night that Clark had featured prominently in his nightmares. But he hadn’t expected it to turn this… twisted.

What right did he have to dream of Clark as… as his partner?

He had spent two years loathing Superman and devising methods to cause his demise, and would’ve almost succeeded in killing him if not for a twist of fate that had their mothers sharing the same given name. He had only become Clark’s ally at the very last moment, just before it would’ve past the point of no return, and then, he had let him die anyway.

The first part of the dream – a part Bruce was shocked to realize that he _still_ craved even when he had no right to – had been a cruel parody of what they could perhaps have become if Bruce’s good sense hadn’t been overcome by irrational hatred, if he hadn’t played directly into the hands of Lex Luthor. He wasn’t _blind_. Even when he had hated Superman, he had noticed Superman’s alien beauty and would objectively, if grudgingly, have had admitted that Superman was handsome if he were ever pressed to answer such a question. But in his dream, it hadn’t been _solely_ about primal lust. Over the years, he had come to expect his subconscious to manifest some unlikely sexual scenarios and had never given much thought about them. The way his mind worked to decompress had always been unusual, and as Batman, he had had dalliances with Selina Kyle after all. But that relationship had been purely about physical relief; feelings had never become involved.

After everything had come to an end, and when he was able to detach himself enough from the crushing flood of emotions, Bruce had admitted to himself that if Superman had come onto the scene without the inadvertent destruction of Metropolis, if Superman’s fight against the hostile Kryptonian hadn’t caused the deaths of thousands of people… His appearance would’ve saved Bruce from his downward spiral, a downward spiral that he’d been in since Jason’s death.

Oh, he would still have been wary, and he would probably still have developed contingencies against Superman. But Bruce knew now that he wouldn’t have gone to the extent of seeking out or creating a weapon that could kill Clark. He might even have attempted to reach out to Clark, even if it was only to get his measure personally _and_ tell Superman to keep out of Gotham because Gotham was Batman’s territory.

Bruce could see it all so clearly in hindsight. If things had gone differently, at some point, they would’ve become friends. True friends. Not the sudden alliance they’d found themselves in after discovering that they’d been pawns in Luthor’s game all along where they had to come to an understanding with each other because the fate of humanity was at stake. Yet even in this alternate timeline that he imagined, he couldn’t see them becoming what they were to each other in his dream. Though maybe, _just maybe_ , he could have fallen for Clark Kent.

So perhaps that explained his dream, explained the fantasy of Clark also being romantically interested in someone as damaged as Bruce. But because it was his dream, it would never be a pleasant one as he was so brutally reminded of. Even so, for Bruce to… to lust after Clark at this juncture, to want something – anything – _more_ with him was _wrong_.

He had told Diana that he wasn’t going to fail Clark in death.

Well. Look at where that got him.

Bruce had always known he was broken.

He was just realizing how much further he could sink into filth.

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilery Tags: Major Character Death (or should I say, Canon Character Death), Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Vivid Dreams/Nightmares, Hurt No Comfort**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Sooooooooooo. That was that. This was largely inspired by how Bruce had such vivid dreams/nightmares in BvS, and how the first thought I had after seeing Clark's death was along the lines of, "Well now Bruce, guess who's gonna be featuring in your nightmares now?" Yes, angst is my best and favorite writing muse~ 
> 
> That said, my friends and I had a giggling fit about how this fic could be even more misleadingly summarized along the lines of "5 Happy Endings + 1 That Wasn't". Because we, but mostly me, are evil that way. *shot*


End file.
